“Both nights?”
“That’s not a crime, is it? I can’t spend my life here. I’ve got things to do, friends and that.”
“And Naomie was here?”
“She was when I left. We weren’t really speaking, so I don’t know if she stayed in or not. She said she was going to bed...”
Helen made a mental note to check for signs of Internet use at the property, phone calls and so on—it wouldn’t be too hard to work out if Naomie had been at home or not. “Why weren’t you talking?”
Once again, Sharon suddenly looked coy. “We had a row.”
“About?”
“Man trouble.”
“Hers or yours?”
“Hers. She’s a moaning little brat. But that’s all she is, I swear. She’s had run-ins with the police before. A bit of shoplifting, but just kids’ stuff. She could never do something like this. She doesn’t have the balls.”
“Has Naomie mentioned the fires to you?” Helen continued.
“No” was the swift reply.
“Did that strike you as odd? Everybody else in Southampton is talking about them.”
Sharon shrugged, then said:
“Naomie doesn’t follow the news. She’s not that kind of kid. Probably wouldn’t talk to me about it even if she did. We’ve never been... a good fit.”
It was said so matter-of-factly that for a moment Helen was speechless.
“Who would she talk to?” Helen said eventually. “Does she have friends? Anyone she hangs out with?”
Sharon thought about it, then said:
“She doesn’t really have mates. She’s always been a bit of a loner, y’know.”
“Where does she hang out, then?” Helen reiterated, insistent.
“She goes to the library sometimes when it’s cold. Other than that she goes where she can get up to mischief. The pubs on Oakland Street, the Common, the skateboard park, the WestQuay Shopping Centre, the parade...”
The list went on. Clearly Naomie wanted to be anywhere but home. Helen noted down the many locations—intending to pass them on to the rest of the team at the earliest opportunity—but before she had finished Sanderson returned, clutching several different copies of theSouthampton Evening News.
“Found these in a plastic bag under her bed. A copy of this week’seditions that lead on the fires. There’s also cuttings from several of the national dailies about the attacks. I guess Naomie’s a bit more interested in these fires than she lets on.”
Helen was already on her feet and heading for the front door. At long last, they had a prime suspect.
109
“Do you want to go public with this?”
Helen was on her phone, pacing back and forth outside Sharon Jackson’s house. Gardam was back at base, supervising the investigation into Naomie’s call history, digital footprint, police records, known associates and more. It was important they worked closely together on this one, so Helen had stepped outside and called him straightaway.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Helen replied. “It’s already gone lunchtime. If she’s planning another attack tonight, then we’ve only got a few hours to stop her. The eyes and ears of the public are our best resource at this point.”
“Have we got a decent photo?”
“I’m sending one through to you now. If we can line up Media Liaison, so they’re ready to go public with it immediately—”
